Matt climbed through the wrecked halls of the Mrs. Dilligaf and tried to ignore the sense of the surreal that hovered around the edges of his awareness.

"Sorry old girl," he said quietly, running his hand over the ruined mahogany paneling that lined the halfway. It was splintered and holed in places, straight up torn through in others, and curiously whole towards the end of the hall. He saw the spots where Allie had first shot at Luis, what felt like a dozen years ago. The splintered panels were from where the car-carrier had stove in the side. And there was more damage to which he couldn't put a cause.

He had bought the Dilligaf with the profits from his first big job as owner of his own contracting company. A multi-million dollar mansion in the most expensive part of Beverly Hills. He'd put in hundred hour weeks for almost six months to get it done on time and on budget–a minor miracle in that industry by itself. And the owner–a prominent figure in the movie industry who had taken a chance on Matt because of a friend's recommendation–had been very generous.

He'd thought, back then, that the Dilligaf would be a solution to so many problems. His wife, newly home from her first war and strangely distant from him. His kids, just out of school for the year, who he'd barely seen the last few months. And his own self, burnt out and tired after a long job. He was sure the yacht would prove a solution to so many problems…

He had been wrong, of course. And he even knew now why he'd been wrong. But back then, it had seemed so simple.

And now to see the yacht like this… He would be lying if he said it didn't set off a twinge of loss in his chest. She would never sail again. Never convey his family to their little dock in hawaii, never take them down to Mexico… It wouldn't even let them explore the new seas of this world. He lacked the tools to get her going again. And while Olivia had brought up the idea of using magic to fix her… He didn't trust the magic of this place fully. Not yet. And even if they COULD get her repaired at some nebulous point far in the future…

Well.

She was needed now.

"Sorry," he said again as he reached the tool locker at the end of the hall and hauled out his tool bag. It was full to the brim of top-quality battery-operated tools, from saws to drills to sanders and a half-dozen other things a man might need at sea to fix what ailed his yacht. A quick test showed the batteries still full and operational–he hadn't been certain they would be, after the whole magical transportation thing–and he started lugging the heavy bag back outdoors.

"Bel!" he heard Olivia squawl from the galley. "What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry," his eldest daughter replied, affront in her voice. "I need food. I'm not certain, but I think my class burns through calories faster than other stuff does. So I'm eating before we start working."

"You're eating a spam sandwich! Ew! Don't you know what that stuff does to you?"

"What?" It's fast, it's filling, and it's got the four basic food groups."

"... The what?"

"Salt, sugar, Protein, and mustard."

"Oh ew!"

"Hey guys," Luc called from somewhere further away. "I found Dad's Snickers stash! Who wants some!"

"I'll bring the mustard," Bel said, and Matt heard the grin in her voice.

"EW!" Both her siblings' voices held the same note of disgust.

"I will disown you if you put mustard on snickers again," Olivia threatened.

Matt chuckled and let their bickering fade away into pleasant background noise. It had been… A long time since he'd listened to them go at it like that and considered it a good thing. Back on Earth, it had just been noise., Distraction. Something he wanted to get away from. It hadn't been their fault really, he'd just been so overwhelmed with Allie and her problems, and then of course the stress that came from running not just his own business but his own business in the rarified air of high-end custom home building. Clients could be…

'Stressful' was far too nice a word for some of them.

He paused at the opening in the Dilligaf's hull and blinked, realizing that he was marooned on an alien world that had already actively tried to kill him several different ways in the past few days, and he was calling his old job 'stressful'.

He snorted when he realized even more that it was true.

"Let's hear it for shifting priorities," he muttered to himself before heaving himself and the tool bag back out onto the sandy soil of the clearing.

Then he took a second and just looked at the boat. Damaged beyond repair… But to the right eye, a treasure trove of resources.

"Thank you Father for your bounty," he whispered quietly. Because that was exactly what the boat was going to be. He let his Contractor's Eye rove over the hull, looking for the best place to start cutting. His first project today was going to be simple; a long flat piece of the fiberglass hull, slightly curved, would make a serviceable travois onto which they could pile foodstuffs, clothing, blankets, and whatever else they might need to take back tonight.

He was also going to have to get some more straps out of the fore locker, rig up some kind of harness for Harry to pull the improvised sled through the forest back to Billy.

Billy. He snorted as he bent down and pulled out a respirator mask and the battery-powered circular saw. What a name for a sentient tree. Admittedly, it was slightly less on the nose than, say, 'Treebeard', but still… What was wrong with Barktholomew?

He tugged the mask down over his mouth and nose and breathed in deep to make sure the filters were still working. Fiberglass dust was dangerous to breathe in–although, the thought caught him up short, was it? Could Luc's healing abilities deal with things like Silicosis or irritation of the lungs? That… Was a good question. And probably something they'd have to look into. He glanced down at the sword still on his hip, who seemed content to be quiet and just take in what was happening. Maybe she would know. He'd have to ask her later. But for now…

The heavy whine of the saw started up in the clearing,and he stepped up to the fiberglass hull, brought the whirring blade up…

And froze.

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The evening sunlight caught the hull just right, turning it almost pearlescent as it reflected off the heavy finish coating and the white fiberglass underneath. It wasn't quite a mirror, but he could see the shadow of his own reflection in the bright unmarred finish. And with the reflection came a storm of emotions he'd been holding in check for almost a week now.

The Dilligaf had been his pride and joy back on Earth. It had been the first thing he'd purchased with the money from his company. It had been what took his family to Hawaii for the first time. It was where they had seen their first blue whale, where he and his wife had made love for the last time before she asked for separate bedrooms.

Memories flashed through his head. His parents' faces, beaming with pride as he showed off the fruits of his labor to them. His kids racing up and down the deck, laughing in the salt spray. Tomas, poor Tomas, humming in the galley as he prepared one of his fine meals. The pristine darkness of the night on the ocean, with a billion stars lighting up the sky like God had hung them there just for him.

His finger came off the saw's trigger and the whine of the power tool died away. He stared at his dark reflection in the finish and swallowed thickly.

This was it, wasn't it?

More than anything else that had happened here on this island, this was the final step. It was an admission, an acknowledgement. It was stupid, but it caught in his chest and would not let go.

He knew, without a doubt, that if he started cutting into his yacht, that was it. He was committed. There was no turning back, no hope for rescue, no scenario in which he and his family sailed away from this island and back… Home.

A soft noise from behind him made him turn, and there was Harry, having plodded impossibly quietly up behind him. The elephant–and that was the only way he could think of the strange cerature–looked at him with those huge expressive eyes it had, almost like it was asking a question.

"Just… dealing with some stuff," Matt said quietly, with a wry smile at his own foolishness. "It's probably the same for you, huh big guy? Yanked from wherever you've been living your life happily and dumped into a weird new situation with a bunch of crazy people who aren't from around here?"

Harry let out a quiet trump sound and took a couple steps closer, his trunk coming up to nuzzle and snuffle at Matt's torso before stepping back and shaking his head like he was trying to shoo off a fly.

"Yeah, I hear you." Matt sucked in a breath and let it out slow. He turned back to the Dilligaf's hull, the symbol of his old life, and stared at it for a long moment.

"Hey Dad, you want a Snickers?"

Matt jerked at the sound of Luc's voice, and turned to see his son hanging out of the stove-in hole a little further down the hull, waving a candybar at him.

"They're kinda going fast. Bel's dipping hers in mustard, which is just wrong, so I figured I'd rescue as many as I could. Want one?"

"Not now bud," Matt said. Luc grinned at him, and just like that, the spell broke.

I'm here now. My family is here now. And a boat doesn't mean a damn thing against that.

Matt turned back to the hull, and this time the light was off, and he didn't see his own reflection in the hull.

Father, give me the strength to protect my family from the dangers of this land, and give me the strength to bear up in this strange new world we've found ourselves in.

He squared his shoulders, tugged his respirator mask back down, and stepped up to the hull, and this time when he depressed the trigger on the saw he didn't hesitate. The heavy cutting blade bit hungrily into the fiberglass, throwing up dust into the air as he made his cuts quick and sure.

Sorry old girl,' he thought as he cut. You were a wonderful yacht, and I loved you and I still love you. But that life was over. Even if they did manage to find some big magical spell that Olivia had talked about that was able to portal them back… Realistically, the Dilligaf would never sail again. And to try and pretend different was just that. Pretending. So.

"Well and it's not like we won't keep making use of you," he added under his breath as he cut. "I've got some ideas. Allie wants a perch where she can see people coming. And Billy's already talking about how to help protect us. I'm thinking we might just be able to use you in a new capacity back at the clearing."

He started in on his final cut… Then let out a curse as the saw bit into something wrong and twisted in his grip. There was a discordant buzz as the saw came off at an angle, and he quickly stepped back and shut the tool off just in case–

The section of hull, barely holding on by a sliver of fiberglass, gave way and fell forward. Matt yelped, tried to backpedal, but didn't get far enough. The edge of the hull section slammed to ground…

Right on top of his big toe.

The spate of cursing he let loose with was exactly the kind of language he tried to keep from his kids, but he couldn't have stopped himself for a big clock as pain rocketed up his leg and blew out through his ears.

"Are you alright Matty?" he heard Allie call, and he heard the laughter in her voice.

"Peachy," he grumbled, hopping on one foot and keeping the rest of the cursing internal-only. "Hey Toraline, I don't suppose steel-toe boots are part of the boons are they?"

"There are several items of footwear that may be selected, however I do not believe 'steel-toe' is a modification any of them have."

"As soon as we get settled in, I'm inventing OSHA," he growled.

He heaved a sigh, shook his sneakered foot a couple times to dissipate the last of the pain, then went back to his tool bag. A few minutes of work with a drill and he had a very makeshift sled, complete with holes where a cable could be passed through to be connected to the harness he was planning for Harry. The slight concave of the hull material was perfect too, creating a slight bowl effect that would allow them to pile stuff up in the middle without as much fear of it tipping over or spilling.

"You okay out here Dad?" Isabel's voice came from the entrance hole. "Sounded like a sailor punched a construction worker in the cuss gland a second ago."

"Sorry about that," Matt said a little sheepishly. "Hull fell on my toe."

"Oh jeez. Yeah that explains it."

Matt glanced up to see Isabel taking a bite of what he assumed was her second or third sandwich. His eldest daughter had always had a fast metabolism, but it sounded like her new class might have kicked it into overdrive.

"Make sure you save some for the rest of us," he chided playfully.

"Oh please, no one else even likes spam." Bel rolled her eyes. "You just stock it because it's 'Hawaiian'.

"And because Tomas made a mean 'spamish' omelette," Matt pointed out.

"Okay fair," Bel admitted.

A quiet descended at the invocation of their old friend and cook's name.

"It sucks that he's gone," Bel said after a second. "He was a good guy."

"He was," Matt said, sighing. "He deserved better."

"Fucking Luis," Bel said next.

"Language," Matt said, and this time it was in his Dad voice.

"Oh please, you just got done–"

"Bel."

Isabel cut off and looked down.

"Sorry," she said.

"Just try to keep it reigned in around your siblings, okay?" Matt said quietly.

"I'll try."

"Are you two about finished swearing at each other?" Allie called from up top. "Because there's movement on the beach. Three crabs just surfaced and are coming our way."

Matt grunted. "They probably heard the construction noises. Allie, can you two keep them away while we load up? I need a few more minutes here."

"Si, we have a good perch–"

"No wait," Isabel said, holding up a hand. "We're running low on ammo as it is."

Matt looked back to see a flurry of thoughts crossing his daughter's eyes, before they finally looked up and right at him.

"Let us handle this one."

Matt blinked. "Us?"

"Liv! Luc! Get out here!" Isabel turned back from calling into the yacht and matched Matt's aghast stare. "Mom can keep us covered with that cool new gun of hers. But… I mean, we need to test out these new class things anyway, right?"

A flat refusal was the first thing that tried to get past Matt's lips. And almost did.

But.

"What's up Bel?" Luc said, scrambling up next to his sister.

Isabel met Matt's eyes and her eyebrows lifted in silent question.

Matt heaved a sigh.

"Allie!" he called up to his wife. "How do you feel about the kids getting some on-the-job training?"

"I am excited about whatever you're talking about," Olivia said next, popping up next to her siblings. "And I want to subscribe to your newsletter."

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